


Seeking Comfort

by skerb



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Customers, Bad Days, Grillby is a good boy, Grillby's Restaurant (Undertale), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Grillby/Sans (Undertale), Sleepy Cuddles, Social Anxiety, Travel, crowds, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 14:31:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19378621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skerb/pseuds/skerb
Summary: Grillby has a long, hard day.





	Seeking Comfort

The Capital is a busy place even if one knows where to go to avoid the crowds. Grillby was unused to large throngs of people, weaving in and out of the thicket of monsters as though they had no idea where they were going. He had only needed a few items ordered, and it was unfortunate as far as circumstances went that everything seemed to be going wrong that day.

It had been relatively harmless. He’d opted for the ferry instead of allowing Sans to escort him through the marshlands to the east. Unfortunately, even bundled in his water-protection gear, the layover between Waterfall and Hotland was long enough to make him weary and anxious over being near so much water.

Then came an unwelcome phone call from one of his mothers, which was so full of biting comments about him never visiting that he regretted even answering the phone. He’d been conned into visiting, taking up a good portion of his day until he pleaded with them to allow him to get some supplies. Grillby really didn’t want to spend the night at his parents’ house if he could avoid it, which meant getting his needed supplies before all the shops closed.

Some shops, unfortunately, had closed - for good, he realised, and felt his heart sink when he realised he’d need to venture further into the capital to get one item here and another there. So much walking through the crowds, even on a Sunday, was enough to wear him down. People in New Home were a callous bunch and often didn’t move for him to pass, so he’d end up dodging a particularly flammable-looking individual, or tripping over those who just barrelled past.

It was too much interaction for one day, when he was already exhausted by the time spent with his parents and having to run all over the city to find one specific spice.

Due to his nervousness around crowds, Grillby had forgotten breakfast, and ultimately lunch. He strolled over to one of the remaining kiosks dispensing food for the locals and set his bag down with his purchases so he could pay. Eating in public made him self-conscious so he opted to finish the cinnamon log as quickly as he could, the crowd pushing in all around him, suffocating him, too close for him to be anything but uncomfortable.

Hastily, he picked up his bag and rounded the corner of the kiosk once he had finished and nearly bowled into a large rock golem, who glared down at him with a snort of derision. Grillby adjusted his glasses, pressing his bag to his chest and quickly signed an apology before his fires could get away from him.

He shuffled away out of view as the golem watched him go, glowering the entire time.

The alleyway he retreated to smelled of old refuse and vinegar, things that Grillby’s presence only made worse the longer he idled nearby. He drew in deep breaths to help calm himself, his chest feeling tight and heavy, like lead was starting to form in the core of his heart. He gasped helplessly, trying to regain his bearings when he heard a voice.

He didn’t even know where it had come from, only that he interpreted it as hostile. And even if they hadn’t sounded hostile, Grillby just wanted to be left alone. He nodded shakily, assuming it was them telling him off for loitering, and exited the alley. He continued walking, avoiding the main streets and crowds until he felt relatively safe to use the side roads and passages.

He ventured further towards Hotland, recognising that several floors had shifted in his absence. He released a coil of smoke in a sigh, distressed. He just wanted to go _home._ He missed his bar. He hated coming to the capital. Maybe he’d indulge in some of his finer brandies as a treat after such a day.

He didn’t get any further than that. Some of the conveyor belts moved and he was whisked off to only god knew where. He held onto his parcel, hoping it only felt lighter because of how heavy he felt. It was one of those puzzles that activated tiles and changed the direction of the belts, so Grillby had to be quick when he just wanted to slough home. He was already exhausted and being forced to do these damned things was taking up what precious reserves he had left.

Some kids he recognised from the capital’s streets early on that morning sat at the sidelines and goaded him, pointing and laughing at his attempts. Grillby’s flames tinged darker before pluming into soft yellows in embarrassment when he lost footing a few times. It was all he needed to hop over the last ledge, huffing and expelling smoke as though he’d attempted to do a mad dash through Waterfall.

Which he realised that… was very likely a possibility. He groaned to himself, holding the stitch in his side and leaning against the nearby cave’s wall. Only then did he decide to poke through his purchases.

Grillby felt his soul do a half-drop down to his stomach, counting off the items. He was missing three, two of which had been desperately difficult to find. Grillby wondered if that had anything to do with the person that tried to speak with him in the alley, but it was too late to go back now. If he continued to stop at every point, he’d be late and stranded in Hotland. He sighed loudly, smoke wafting around him, just wanting to burn the bags’ contents to vent some frustration.

He checked his watch. It was only a little after two in the afternoon. While it wasn’t too late, if he delayed any longer, he would be late in opening the bar. If he was honest with himself, Grillby felt as though he should keep the restaurant closed for one more day. Coupled with the fact he was missing two key ingredients, it meant that Grillby would have to come next weekend, when he really wanted to relax and do nothing…

He repressed a hiss. He was remiss to venture further into Waterfall, to have to dodge yet more goddamn water and monsters who thought it was curious he’d risk injury to travel through it from Hotland to the ferry.

Fortunately, apart from a splash of water that threatened the side of the craft, Grillby disembarked at the Snowdin stop unscathed. His aura was a little depleted, dim and rusty orange instead of his robust yellows, golds and brighter rusts. If anyone was outside to notice, they’d see that Grillby really felt under the weather.

He grimaced as a fat drop of slush fell onto his shoulder from his front door’s eaves. He was worn out, irritable, upset and utterly exhausted, and on top of that, a few customers thought it was alright to follow him into the bar. Normally it would be fine, but Grillby felt like he needed space.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t very articulate about how he phrased it, so he merely signed, _‘Not open yet.’_   The crow that entered merely helped themselves up onto one of the counter’s bar stools and swivelled in place.

“That’s ok, man!! Like, I can wait!”

Grillby buried his expression with fire, wanting nothing more than to escort them out. It appeared that he’d have no time to himself before he readied the kitchen for use.

While the crow waited, they chattered loudly on their cell phone, mostly about business and how it was going in their personal life. Then Grillby began to catch little comments, things that would normally be brushed aside. He’s had his fair share of rude customers before, but Grillby felt downtrodden and discouraged by the comments; especially since it was being relayed to someone who wasn’t even there.

He turned on the oven, the grill and the vent. It nearly pulled a few errant, weaker flames from his hand as Grillby did so, so he turned it down. Pushing fire into the grill to light it, the fire monster then got to prepping; tomatoes, ginger, oranges, cinnamon, and-

Reaching for the bag, he remembered that the mulling spices he had selected were amongst the items lost from the bag. He sighed heavily, again feeling like all he could do was push himself until eleven. He eyed the time. It was just before four.

It was going to be a long evening.

 

Even with things missing, Grillby felt as though everything was done on automatic. He adjusted recipes and informed customers that their usuals would be unusual today if they ordered them. The crow continued to be on their phone the entire time, seemingly nitpicking the furniture to whoever was on the other end.

Grillby tried to limit his interactions with the strange crow, but ultimately was flagged down again after sliding their burger across the bar to them. He offered a glass to them and gestured to a neat little barrel to the side that Sans had rigged to dispense water. He’d thought it a clever idea, since he much preferred not to touch the stuff.

It appeared that the crow had grievances with that. “What, I’m supposed t’serve myself?” they scoffed, their phone hanging a fraction below their beak.

Grillby flushed and silently pardoned himself, hoping they just needed a demonstration. He lifted their glass to the dispenser and filled the glass partway, his aura silently shrieking at the threat of water. Then, very carefully, he set the glass on the provided coaster and clasped his hands behind his back.

He’d be patient, but after such a trying day, Grillby was close to closing down shop, regardless of who was finished dinner or not. But he resisted. He had to make a good impression, and it wasn’t fair to the bunny family, who gathered on Sunday evenings to have dinner together at his restaurant.

“This burger’s lacking something. Also, do you happen to have any discounts for reviewers?” the crow asked. They weren’t nice about it either, on the verge of haughtiness and that Grillby owed him some great favour.

Grillby owed him no such thing. He’d be polite though, signing precisely when the crow bothered to look at him, _‘No present deals at this time.’_   He was barely eking by as it is.

“Even for first-time visitors?”

Grillby swallowed carefully, trying not to let his irritation show. _‘Afraid not.’_

He stood a beat longer until the crow scoffed again, turning back to their burger and fries as though suddenly it was made of fried slime and sugarless oatmeal. It took everything Grillby was not to ask them to leave when he heard them speak into their phone, “Man, this place smells. Greasy counters, dirty floors. The owner can’t cook a decent burg, everything’s so oily. And on top of it all, everything’s bland. Ever hear of salt…? Haha! Right? What a waste of my time. He better not think I’m paying for this.”

Grillby’s aura sparked a little with the last comment. It was building anger inside of him, stoked by every scathing comment about his home, his restaurant, his pride and joy. Just because it wasn’t an upscale restaurant in New Home, it was certainly better than most. Grillby glared down at the floors, which were mopped clean daily, its worn hardwood soft and sturdy but not dirty. His countertops sparkled, easily seen as they were made with marbled quartz. He had condiment bottles within reach, napkins, silverware and glasses that sparkled in his firelight.

And now his firelight was rusty and red again. He was repressing his reactions, which sadly drew attention to himself.

“The owner’s a real hothead too, just holdin’ back snark at every turn, looks like. That, n’you can tell how jaded he is. Honestly, he’s gotta been in his fourth century or something. The guy should really just retire. It’s sad to see a guy like that running down a promising business. Shame about the food, though. Would be nice if there was some salt in here.”

The pencil Grillby used to write down orders caught fire, licking up the orange paint and shrivelling up the eraser. He hissed at the flames to rescind, but the damage to the pencil was already done. Drawing out a long breath, he turned to help another customer who had overheard the crow’s comments and looked concerned.

“On top of it all, I’m gonna get black lung hangin’ out in here! The guy’s been smoking while he works. It’s a restaurant, man, not a saloon, though you wouldn’t know it-”

“Grillby, dear,” the older bunny quietly whispered when Grillby came near. “Are you quite alright, hun? You’re lookin’ a touch dim tonight.”

Grillby kindled briefly, but it was short-lived. Gently, the bunny put her hand on his forearm to soothe him. Before she got burned, the fire monster jerked away with a few apologetic pops and crackles. She didn’t appear to be harmed, her eyes softening with sympathy. She beckoned him closer, and when he hesitated, when waved more insistently.

“Listen, darlin’. That’s Red Bird’s cousin, right? Just let `em know the rules and if they don’t like `em, they can leave. You can do it, hun!” she urged kindly.

A pity Grillby felt as though his social metre had depleted long ago. He gave a tentative smile and a roll of his shoulder to show he understood, then returned to the counter where the crow was avidly snapping for his attention. The bunny sighed in veiled exasperation when he left her and he threw an apologetic look over his shoulder.

He hoped that she wouldn’t interfere. Again, he’d had some rude customers, but usually it was during last call and never with a full restaurant.

“It’s mad uncomfy in here too, man,” the crow was still talking on their phone while picking through the basket of fries. “Like, have you ever heard of central heating?”

Grillby felt a tick in his jaw and his heart sink. He had prided himself on providing a cosy atmosphere and the crow was systematically knocking down every pride he’d ever felt for his place of business. The fire monster just hung back, his heart and soul feeling like lead in his chest, waiting to be called upon for an order or a bill.

Uncomfortable. Filthy. Lacking atmosphere. Smokey. The food is bland. Customers have to serve their own water. He was apparently ‘pricey’. Grillby felt his resolve chip away, not really wanting them to stay anymore. They continued to beak off about the littlest thing, right down to a portion of potato that looked a little darker than the rest, exclaiming that it was overcooked.

_“Leave.”_

The entire restaurant went quiet. It had taken everything out of him to not talk back, to let them vent, thinking that they just needed someone to talk to. He had never been so defeated, so worn down that Grillby just didn’t care anymore. Apparently his reputation was a shame, anyway, so…

_“If being in my establishment is not up to your keen standards, you are welcome to leave. Consider the sad filth on your plate a pittance for your endurance.”_

The crow stared at him, fry raised to their beak and their other wing still holding their phone to their head. Grillby waited for them to retort, the heat under his body raising as he couldn’t take it anymore.

_“Just go. You don’t have to suffer anymore.”_

They didn’t move to get up.

Grillby swallowed the tight knot in his throat, the searing shame and exhaustion building up in him. More smoke tumbled out from his mouth when he finally said, raising his voice and glaring them down; _“LEAVE.”_

They apparently didn’t need to be told a fifth time. As though they had no shame, the crow slid off the barstool and glared back, maintaining eye contact as they flapped their wing at Grillby. It distorted his flames, but also sent the remaining fries in the basket hurtling over the counter, pelting the fire monster.

“This place is a garbage heap! Good riddance. To hell with this!”

Then they were gone. Grillby held his temperature higher, just to protect himself in case they decided to return. The other patrons were still staring, but eventually they started to applaud, different physicalities pounding the tables and monsters hooting to cheer him on. Grillby felt a surge of affection for them all and covered his face with his hands, the tightness from his chest rising to his throat to mute him again.

 

The rest of the evening went better. Several of the patrons extended niceties to him, citing that the crow had been unreasonable and extremely rude. Grillby only nodded in agreement, not having much energy for more than that after releasing his anger, even if only a little bit. He noticed after awhile that Sans hadn’t even dropped by after he’d come back. It more than likely affected his mood as well as everything else.

Some of the older monsters stayed behind to help him clean and wipe down tables, put up chairs and dispose of leftovers. Someone had even decided to use the sink in the kitchen to do the dishes, citing that he should reserve his strength. People were gently advised to come back the next day when they wandered in, but there was no issue with that.

Grillby held a tentative hope in his heart that he’d see that one missing monster by the end of the evening, but since Sans was likely at home, it would be up to him to visit, if anything.

Once everyone had gone home and the kitchen was gleaming clean, the floors had been mopped and the glassware put away, Grillby pulled on his coat. He just needed to take one more walk.

Despite it being so late, it was well known that Papyrus would be awake, even in the dead of night. On a few occasions, Grillby had strolled up to the skeleton brothers’ house and knocked on the door, and would be invited in. The look on the taller skeleton’s face was incredulous, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he took one look at Grillby and invited him inside.

“HE’S NAPPING UPSTAIRS.” There really wasn’t anything more to say than that. Grillby nodded to Papyrus in thanks and climbed the staircase to the second landing, breathing in the familiar scent of bones and dirty laundry the further he got to the end of the landing.

Carefully, in case Sans was actually sleeping instead of playing games on his phone, Grillby opened the door, coat in hand. He slipped inside after opening it a crack, showing the small comedian curled in a lump in the middle of the mattress. Grillby dimmed his fires ineffectively, wincing when his light shone pale on Sans’ face.

The skeleton moved over to the side to escape the light with a muted groan of protest and Grillby smiled hopelessly to himself. He didn’t bother to properly hang his coat, only set it down on the desk and pulled off his shoes and nudged them out of the way. Then he simply crawled into bed with Sans, seeking comfort after such a rough day with Sans’ back against his chest.

Of course his warmth would give him away, and that was fine. He curled his arm around Sans’ waist, nuzzling his neck before Sans turned, groggily looking over his shoulder.

“hey…” was the soft gravel of sleep.

Grillby didn’t say anything in response, just buried his face against Sans’ shoulder. Sans turned in place, inviting him closer, feeling the skeleton’s soft breath against his face.

“c’mere,” Sans said softly, winding his arms around him. Grillby’s heart felt as though it was rising up again, comforted by Sans’ quiet understanding. “rough day?”

Silently, Grillby nodded against him, winding his arms around Sans’ body to better entwine with the skeleton’s limbs. He breathed out a smokey breath, shuddering all the wracked nerves and failures of the day into one heavy gasp.

“hey, it’s ok,” Sans mumbled, stroking over the broad side of Grillby’s back. “you can hang out here if you want.” The bony arms around Grillby tightened, firmly holding him close with no remorse.

Grillby laughed bitterly, his voice hushed even between them, _“I do want.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted Grillby to have a bad day and then just quietly crawl into bed with Sans for cuddles. ;;;w;;;


End file.
